Pilot
by Black Wolf's Shadow
Summary: Dean's view of the fire in Sam's apartment in the Pilot episode and his actions to save his brother.


"It was fun while it lasted," Dean said bitterly to himself and Sam's reflection in the rearview mirror; despite his ridiculous size, his little brother grew smaller and smaller as the Impala continued to move away under Dean's guidance.

"Damn it all, anyway" he muttered, tearing his gaze away as Sam turned for his house. He told himself he didn't need Sam to do this job. Hell, he'd been doing this for years, alone, with no one's help. Why would he need to start now?

_Because you're tired of being alone. He's deserting you, again,_ a little voice whispered. Dean imagined thoroughly strangling the little niggling feeling until it went silent. "I don't need him to find Dad. I don't! I can do this on my own. It's what I should've done from the start." When he stopped speaking, the silence in the car seemed to speak volumes; Dean cranked the radio to drown it out, nearly flew out the window when some little teen pop star came on over the speakers with some truly awful singing.

"Fuck!" Dean yelled, spinning the volume knob so hard it was a wonder it didn't come off. Now he knew what Sam had been waiting for; that was his brother's favorite trick. Nearly four years off the job and Sammy could still pull one over on him; bastard had managed to turn the station without him even noticing, right under his very nose! His dad would never let him live it down. It was a mark of how good he still was, despite the new lifestyle; that, and the bruises Dean still had from being hit and then slammed into the floor of his brother's living room. Damn, that had hurt!

"Y'know what, screw this, and screw him!" Dean snarled, yanking his baby around in a tight U-turn, tires screaming protest. "This is his dad, too, he can damn well help me find him!"

He ignored the smug feeling from that little voice he was still failing to ignore.

_What are you gonna do, tie him up and kidnap him? I don't think he's going to come quietly,_ his tactical side said. _And you're not exactly up to dragging his gigantic ass out the front door._

"Stupid sasquatch," he muttered, "serve him right if I kicked his ass and dragged him out here." He pulled up against the same curb he'd so recently vacated and shut off the engine. All the lights were still off, no signs anyone was awake inside; still such a wimp, Sam probably walked in and fell face-first on his bed without another thought. Perfect. Awake, Sam was almost dangerous; asleep, this was going to be much easier. Dean chuckled to himself, already seeing payback for that radio trick.

"Ready or not, here I come," he muttered, climbing out of the car, careful to shut the door silently. Or as silently as was possible with a girl of her experienced age. He was almost to the back door when the screaming started.

"No! NO!" The howling went on and on and Dean was kicking in the door before he even thought about it.

"Sam! SAMMY!" he yelled back, making for the stairs. Sam was upstairs, and he was in trouble; it was his every and only thought. Terror shot through him at the pain in Sam's cries; even when Sam had been tortured within an inch of his life by a demon, he hadn't sounded like this.

"JESS! NO!"

_Jess?_ he wondered distantly, taking the stairs three at a time. _His girlfriend? _

The heat was his first clue to what had happened, though he wouldn't put it all together until much later, when the panic was over. He nearly missed the fire consuming the ceiling in favor of seeing Sam cowering half-on, half-off the bed. It was his terrified, upturned face that clued Dean into the flames a second before the windows exploded. He ducked instinctively, catching sight as he did so of a nearly shapeless form seemingly glued to the ceiling. And he knew.

"Sam, c'mon! We gotta get out of here!" he yelled, darting forward and grabbing his still-shrieking brother around the chest. The surge to his feet that Sam did next while trying to get away nearly knocked his shorter brother off his feet.

"NO! JESS, PLEASE!" Sam screamed, reaching blindly for his dead beloved. Dean grabbed his flailing arm, nearly getting punched for his efforts, clamped it down to Sam's side with an iron grip, shoving with everything he had toward the door. Sam kept them both on their feet by fighting him back, still trying to reach Jess. Four years younger, he was still enormously strong and fighting with everything he had; Dean was seriously considering laying him out and dragging him outside unconscious when the room exploded behind them, throwing them forward and into the hallway with the force. Dean yelled in pain at the blistering heat on his back but managed to turn as they fell so he didn't hit Sam when they landed. Old habits died hard and protecting Sam was still his first priority.

"No! Jess, Jessica!" Sam yelled; seeing his opportunity, he scrambled back to his feet and dodged Dean to make for the room. Reflex shot Dean's hand out; it closed around his brother's ankle and yanked, hard, crashing Sam down to the wooden floor. Dean was on top of him in a second, pinning his arms behind his back in a painful grip even Sam couldn't ignore. Or really, he could, but at the risk of dislocating his shoulders.

He roughly dragged his brother to his feet with that hold, manhandling him down the stairs and out the door. The landing on the floor seemed to have shocked him into submission; Sam had stopped screaming, stopped making any noise at all, stopped fighting. When Dean shoved his younger brother down onto the grass yards away from the burning house and knelt in front of him, he saw the silent tears flooding down his cheeks from his too-wide eyes. His black pupils had nearly swallowed the iris around them and he seemed to be looking right through his brother; he was in shock.

"Sammy," Dean called, trying to get his attention. No reaction. "Sammy!" Dean ordered, shaking his brother hard enough to snap his head on his neck. Startled out of his numbness, Sam came awake swinging wildly. Dean was fast enough to dodge the first hit but the second one clipped him on the chin, even that glance enough to send him sprawling. He groaned as he struggled back to his feet, expecting to have to chase after Sam back into the house and entirely dreading having to drag him back out again; he nearly froze when he saw the taller man standing stock-still, facing the dying house.

"Sam?" Dean questioned softly; he finally managed to get back to his feet, cradling his chin absently with his hand. The other one reached out to close over Sam's shoulder. "No, no, no. No, no," Sam was muttering over and over, his desolate eyes locked on the top floor window; Dean's heart tore at the despair in his face. A siren sounded in the distance, sending Dean's heart into his throat before he remembered he had a legitimate reason for being here. He wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulders, holding him tightly as he led Sam back further from the house; he didn't resist, but he didn't turn away from looking, either.

"Oh, Jess. Please, Jess, please," he cried. Dean was just fast enough to grab him and keep him from collapsing bonelessly to the ground; he lowered him the rest of the way there and then settled carefully next to him, keeping both arms around his broad shoulders and holding him tight enough that Sam would've complained at any other time. Now, he just turned into his brother's hold, fisting both hands into Dean's leather jacket and sobbing hopelessly.

"I'm sorry, Sam, God, I'm so sorry," Dean whispered, holding his brother's head to his shoulder and feeling his own eyes water. He hadn't known her long but Dean had genuinely liked Jess, was happy for his brother's happiness despite the betrayal it still felt like. And now Sam was broken into pieces, his little brother sobbing in his arms, and Dean knew things wouldn't ever be okay for him.

"Shh, Sammy, shh," Dean tried to soothe his wild brother, gritting his teeth to stop the tears as he stared at the burning building. He'd done this; he'd led that stupid_fuckinggoddamnsonofaBITCH_ back into his brother's life, and Sam had paid the price. He'd been safe, damn it all! Sam had been exactly what he wanted and Dean had ruined it. He should've stayed away, he never should've come back. Sammy would've stayed happy if he just hadn't been so weak, so tired of being alone.

It was all Dean's fault.


End file.
